


All The Songs We Love The Most, Never Stick At First

by teenuviel1227



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Eventual Feelings, Eventual Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Light Angst, M/M, Smut, have sex to forget your ex, past!BriPil, past!ParkBros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-02-23 02:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13180449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenuviel1227/pseuds/teenuviel1227
Summary: In which Jae and Brian are friends with benefits who start off as friends having sex to forget their exes--and end up falling in love because, you know, they’re them.Thanks to the person who requested this on CC! :D





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paintthetownteal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintthetownteal/gifts).



> Title is paraphrased from Dead On Arrival by Fall Out Boy. This is going to be short but sweet--just three chapters. Hopefully, it’ll be updated regularly although real life has been getting in the way these days. :) I know my birthday is done but I want to go through all of yesterday’s requests, still. So. Yes. More to come soooon!
> 
>  
> 
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)  
> [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)  
> [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Setting, mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)   
>  [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)   
>  [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)

It starts off at one of the snack places by the Han River, with a box piled with books and a duffel bag stuffed with sweaters on a February night when it’s so cold no one in their right mind would eat outdoors--but neither Jae nor Brian are quite in their right minds. They’re both fresh from break-ups, both irritable, both kind of in a hurry to get as drunk as they can and still make it home on public transport because yes, they are also both kind of broke from having to find their own places to live. 

It’s a convenience thing: Jae is Wonpil’s Advanced Art Theory seatmate and no fucking way is Brian going to meet up with Wonpil after the last fight they had, after he’d said the things that he’d said. Something about Brian being too up his own ass with his business case studies, something about him not being sweet enough or being  _ there  _ enough, something about him losing his love for music or not listening to Wonpil’s music or criticizing his music too harshly--bad boyfriend Brian was the long and short of it. 

Brian is Sungjin’s Intermediate Accounting classmate and no way in hell is Jae going to see Sungjin after he’d told him point-blank that he wanted to break up, that it wasn’t working out even if they’d spent the better part of their college lives together because Jae was too wired and erratic, had for all of his talk about film and writing a good script and the human experience, become emotionally absent--whatever the hell that meant. Also, Jae had thrown his soda in Sungjin’s face and that was embarrassing as hell and if he could, he would avoid Sungjin like the plague for the rest of his life. 

The setting: one of the outdoor eateries along the north edge of the Han River, Spring night, blistering cold. 

Enter Jae, huffing and puffing from having walked from the farthest station one could consider “near” to save money--padded coat, thick scarf, gloved hands holding a box of Brian’s old books: some T.S. Eliot, some H.G. Wells, some Oscar Wilde. He sits at one of the tables, orders jajangmyeon because it’s cheap, soju because he wants to stop the whole being sober thing as soon as possible. He pours himself a glass, throws it back.  _ Cheers, asshole.  _

Enter Brian in pink sweatpants and a checkered flannel shirt under his school winter jacket, not giving a fuck about fashion because who the hell was going to see him anyway? Not Wonpil, that’s for sure--not that beautiful, wonderful guy who, just last year, would be pouting while waiting for him out in the cold, holding a thermos of hot chocolate. And if Wonpil wasn’t going to see him, then what was the fucking point? He ducks under the flap of the eatery, hoisting the duffel bag full of Jae’s old oversized sweaters and old school rom com DVDs over his shoulder. He’d ask Sungjin to pay him for this service if only it wasn’t so convenient for him too. He plops into the seat across from Jae, who is already halfway through his bowl of jajangmyeon and a quarter through his bottle of soju. Brian orders them another round. He looks up at Jae and it’s like looking into a mirror: eyebags, alcohol flush across the cheeks, day two hair-- _ yup, mood.  _

“Hey,” Jae says, nodding up at him before sliding what’s left of the soju toward him. “Go ahead--then let me have some of yours when the order gets here.”

Brian smiles despite himself. Direct to the point, bearing alcohol--good enough company and he’s grateful for that. He downs the soju from the bottle, not letting the bottle mouth touch his lips. It burns but that’s also kind of the point. He slams the empty bottle down onto the table. “Thanks.”

Jae nods at the box of stuff. “Why the hell did you lend him so many fun books? Aren’t you supposed to be a business major? Aren’t you guys stiffs in suits?” 

Brian rolls his eyes, tosses the duffel bag at Jae. “You tell me. You’re the one who dated the guy with a stick up his ass for years.” 

Jae almost snorts noodles through his nose. “Touche.” 

The second bottle of soju arrives, shortly followed by Brian’s noodles. Jae’s surprised at how much--and how quickly--he eats, ends up giving Brian what’s left of his noodles just to watch it disappear. They drink, the toasts merciless, cruel, the most fun they’ve had in a while. 

To being called an asshole when you’re just trying to focus on shit for your future--both of your fucking futures, mind you. To relationships lasting just long enough to fuck with your feelings. To people you love who don’t love you quite as much as you’d thought. To Park Sungjin’s eyes. To Kim Wonpil’s smile. To fucking heartbreak. To having everything you saw in your future come crashing down on you a week before finals. To the torture of having to “get back out there”. To having to download Tinder for the first time in your adult life. To being sexless for the foreseeable future.

Brian laughs at that, grin easy now, the alcohol loosening him up. Jae is laughing too, cheeks flushed, his glasses slipping down his nose. 

“Speak for yourself.” 

Jae raises an eyebrow. “Oooooh, someone’s got game?”

Brian shakes his head, signaling the waiter for another bottle. “Well, sex and love aren’t quite the same thing, are they? You can be heartbroken as fuck and still want to get off.” 

Jae nods. “True that. It’s kind of hard to find someone else who thinks that way, though. I mean how many people are going to be up for messing around with someone who’s walking emotional carnage? How would that Tinder bio even read?  _ Was in a relationship for years, kinda fragile and horny but not looking for any long-term commitments because he’s emotionally unavailable? _ "

Brian shrugs. “I’d swipe right.” 

“Oh.” Jae’s face turns redder than he’d like.

Brian realizes the implications of what he’s said, wonders if he should make a joke, wonders if he should take it back--but he wasn’t fully kidding, but Jae is kind of cute, but Brian hasn’t had sex in what feels like forever, but Brian had downloaded Tinder that morning and stopped short of writing his bio for precisely the reasons Jae’s just verbalized. 

The fourth bottle arrives. 

Jae pours he first shot. They hold each others’ gaze as they knock them back. It’s Jae that speaks up first. 

“My place is full of boxes and the bed doesn’t have any sheets yet but it’s soft enough and there’s a 7/11 nearby so we could buy stuff. Also it's two stations away-ish.” 

Brian signals for the bill. 

They leave the books, the sweaters, the CDs behind. Exit, stage left.  
  


 

It feels good, simple as that. They don’t turn on the lights, don’t bother with ambiance. Jae turns the key, swings the door to the cramped flat open, and Brian pushes him against the wall, kicking the door shut on their way in. Jae grins, pulling Brian into an open-mouthed kiss by the collar of his shirt, licking into his mouth, feeling his breath hitch as Brian lets his teeth drag on Jae’s lower lip. It feels good to feel a body against his, to feel heat after being in the cold for so long. Brian is rough but gentle. Jae reciprocates, slips a leg between Brian’s thighs, tugs him closer by the drawstring of his pink sweatpants.  _ Who the fuck wears pink sweatpants? _ They grind until they’re hard, until the warmth ignites into a fire that catches--on hair, on skin, on soft sighs and wet lips. 

They tear layer after layer off each other as quickly as possible--coats, sweater, flannel, t-shirts, pants, underwear--until they’re naked, until kissing becomes exploration, until hands become hungry, skin kissing skin, until their hands find the length of each other, both of them hard, but too dry for comfort or climax, until they’re breathless and sweating, wanting more. 

“Bed,” Jae says.

Brian nods, lets Jae pull him into the empty bedroom. The mattress is on the floor by the window, moonlight pouring in. Brian kisses him again, thumbs brushing against his ears, the hollow of his throat. Jae squeezes his ass, pushing their erections against each other as if to signal his want. 

“Just one request,” Brian says, pulling away. 

Jae’s lips are kiss-swollen. They’re both breathing hard. “What?”

“Let’s not fuck each other the way we fucked them. I don’t want to be traumatized--muscle memory and all that. I just want to forget.” Brian looks into his eyes. His expression is serious, intense.

“Alright.” Jae nods, feeling his heart lurch with compassion for Brian. Tonight, they are comrades in fucking, in forgetting, in throwing in the towel on love. “How did you do it with him? We’ll do the opposite.” 

“Top. I used to top.” With that, Brian pushes Jae’s knees apart, lowers himself until his lips kiss the pulsing head of Jae’s erection. He takes him in halfway, pulsing shallow but close, jaw slack lips loose, playful. Jae throws his head back in ecstasy, baring his throat, bracing himself against the mattress, forearms tensing.  _ Fuck, fuck, fuck.  _ Brian goes until he’s slick, until he knows that the condom will roll onto Jae’s cock easy and then lets off before he’s in danger of cumming too soon. 

He tosses his glasses onto the floor. “Sit on my face.”

Brian obliges, letting Jae pry him open with deft fingers, with his sly tongue, feeling his knees quiver as Jae slips a spit-slicked finger into his hole on the bloom of the pucker, as he sucks what will become a bruise onto the soft flesh of his inner thighs. 

“Okay?” Jae asks, sliding a fingertip against Brian’s prostate.

Brian lets out a breathless  _ yeah _ and Jae is pulling his finger out, pushing him softly onto the bed, pulling a pillow toward him to cushion the fall. Jae is ready, tears the packet open and slides the condom onto his cock. 

“Ass in the air, then,” Jae says, language crass but voice soft, gentle. He pushes into Brian. Brian lets out a moan, taking a deep breath--it’s been a while since anyone has been inside him. Jae feels himself tremble from the friction, from the depth of being contained. He tries to be soothing, rubs Brian’s lower back, waits for him to relax before slowly thrusting in, his moans low and hoarse. 

“Fuck that feels good,” Brian says as Jae curls around him so that his chest is flush with Brian’s back, as Jae licks his palm before reaching over to stroke him to their rhythm: tip to shaft to base, letting his palm drag over the slit, over the pre-cum left there to leak. 

They’re sweating, hair matted to their temples, everything momentarily forgotten in the haze of each other as they chase their climax. Brian cums first, creaming all over Jae’s long fingers, Jae taking that as a cue to hammer down relentlessly, bottoming Brian out and going as fast and as hard as he needs to until he spills into the condom, until he is collapsing breathless on top of Brian, both of them breathing hard, both of them sleepy from exertion, both of them finding relief for the first time in what feels like forever. 

The cleaning up is friendly if matter-of-fact--wipes are passed along, the condom tied up, disposed of. They get dressed. Jae helps Brian find his shoes. Brian asks for a glass of water. They share half a bottle of mineral water that Jae finds in his fridge: he hasn’t bought any glasses yet. They laugh nervously, joke around and pretend they met online. 

“Thanks,” Jae says at the door, leaning against the frame. “I mean--I had fun. More fun than I thought I would.”

“Right back atcha.” 

“Hey Brian?”

“Yeah?”

“If you ever need someone to you know, forget with--”

“--I have your number,” Brian says, nodding. “I’ll put it to good use.”

Jae smiles. “Goodnight, then, fuck buddy.” 

Brian rolls his eyes but he’s grinning. “Sweet dreams, FuBu.” 

For the first time in what feels like a long time, both of them feel like something is the opposite of ending.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters, exposition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :D Hope you enjoy this chapter. :) <3
> 
>  
> 
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)  
> [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)  
> [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)

It’s how they get through the semester--almost literally fucking their way through to the end of the term. It isn’t that they’d forgotten why they’d picked their courses: Jae still loves film, Brian still loves business, but somehow their disciplines become a kind of cross to bear. Jae sits through long shooting hours and finds himself wondering if Sungjin would still be in his arms if he hadn’t had the long filming hours to compete with. Brian reads through pages and pages of intense case studies, elaborate business plans and wonders what use it’d be to own a successful business without having Wonpil to come home to at the end of the day. So they make their own things to tether happiness to, they invent their own pockets of pleasure or at least the absence of pain.

Jae finds he doesn’t really think about much when he’s on his knees blowing Brian in Brian’s bare bones apartment, the boxes still unpacked, but the kitchen somehow fully furnished, the cupboards filled with food to cook, snacks to eat. Brian’s sexy with his head tipped back, throat bared, the kitchen chair squeaking beneath him as he bucks his hips, pushing himself deeper into Jae’s mouth. Brian finds it easiest not to think when he’s in Jae’s bed--by now arranged neatly by the corner of the small bedroom, the sheets a dusty rose, the pillowcases matching if faded, if frayed--and riding him hard, Jae a sighing mess beneath him, struggling to stroke him to climax through the pleasure. They find that life is a little lighter when they’re in the back recesses of the library, Jae pinning Brian gently but firmly against the wall, thrusting into him while a hand covers his mouth so they don’t make too much noise, Jae biting his own lip until he’s scared he’ll draw blood to keep himself from crying out. They find that things are almost great when at the end of a filming day, at the end of a long accounting exam, there is a rendezvous at Brian’s place, both of them already getting started in the elevator, going at it like rabbits on the old futon, the kitchen counter, the living room floor.

Stage whisper: they each avoid each other's exes past affirming that, yes, the bad juju stuff had been returned. Jae moves seats, not really wanting to talk to Wonpil about Brian. Brian avoids Sungjin’s eye when they’re asked to pick partners for the term’s final project. It isn’t that they’re doing anything wrong, really--it isn’t even that it’s so much strange as it is awkward to be the source of someone’s relief while having to go to class with the source of their pain.

It’s nice to have someone there, that’s all.

An understudy--the same role, but not quite. The same lines, but not quite.

Addendum: sometimes, Brian cooks a hot meal and Jae finds himself smiling without knowing it. Sometimes, Jae asks if Brian wants to shower with him and they find themselves kissing in the shower. Just for fun. Just because it feels good.

 

 

The Major Characters:

Park “Jae” Jaehyung - Film Major, majorly fucked by his messy break-up with long-term boyfriend, Park Sungjin

Kang “Brian” Younghyun - Business Major who shifted from the Music program, in the business of heartache and not really giving a fuck about anything after being dumped by one Kim Wonpil

Park Sungjin - Business Major, voted Hottest Man On Campus every year since he was a freshman, fell in love with Park Jaehyung when he acted in one of Jae’s freshman films, still angry over Jae not chasing him when they broke up, still angry about the soda thrown in his face

Kim Wonpil - Music Major, Mr. Congeniality, met Brian Kang freshman year, only realized he had feelings for him after Brian left the program--realized he’d fallen out of love with him when Brian missed his term recital for the fifth time and he hadn’t noticed

Yoon Dowoon - Double Major in Film and Business, baddest ass drummer, incredible at Accounting, knows everyone, throws the best parties, doesn’t skimp on the tea or the real talk--ever

The plot: at some point, everything converges--by hook or by crook.

 

After midterms, they go out to a gig on the pretense of seeing one of their common friends play--Dowoon, a double major kid who they both know through class: Marketing Management 2 for Brian, Screenwriting 3 for Jae--and drink like the end of sobriety is a race, until they pry the laughter out of each other easy, until Jae is making crass jokes without double-thinking and Brian is laughing without hesitation and they’re handsy in public: Brian keeping a hand on Jae’s nape, Jae nipping at Brian’s ear. They start kissing halfway through Dowoon’s set, almost forgetting why they’d come here. They walk into the alley, Brian pushing Jae up against the wall before they start to make out, giggling against lips before they slip into deep kisses. They hail a cab, they pick Jae’s place because it’s closer. They fuck until they can’t, fall asleep still sticky with each other.

The next morning, Jae wakes up first, heart racing. The doorbell is buzzing, the intervals close. It takes him a while to realize that the reason he can’t quite stand up is because Brian has an arm thrown over his chest, his nose snuggled to his neck, takes him a while to realize that Brian has slept over, that their clothes are still strewn everywhere, that he is pretty much butt naked under the sheets tangled between them.

“Bri. Hey, Brian,” Jae says, nudging him. “I have to get up.”

Brian doesn’t quite come to, just mumbles something vague before rolling over on his side, pulling one of Jae’s plushies from where it was previously lodged against Jae’s torso. The ringing of the doorbell becomes harried, more insistent.

“Fucking wait, will you!” He yells, stepping into his boxers, pulling his oversized shirt on.

He peeks into the peephole at the door to find Dowoon standing in the hallway. Jae frowns. _What the hell’s he doing here?_

Jae opens the door and it’s when Dowoon attempts to step into his apartment that Jae realizes Brian is still naked in his bed, that Dowoon is, at this point, the one ring to find them all and in the darkness bind them. He puts a hand up to Dowoon’s chest.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to head in there, Dowoonie.”

Dowoon raises an eyebrow. “Well, you disappeared from my gig so I thought that I’d have breakfast with you. I haven’t talked to you in a while, hyung.”

“Yeah,” Jae says. “How about you go to the cafe across the street and I get dressed and meet you there--”

“--I can wait in your kitchen.”

“I don’t have...chairs.” Jae thinks it sounds stupid even as he says it.

“I can sit on the floor,” Dowoon says, keeping his gaze level. He grins, nonchalant. It catches Jae off-guard. “Unless like, you have someone over?”

“What the hell would make you think that?” Jae tries to keep his voice that usual sardonic tone, that carefully cultivated key of your-hypothesis-is-invalid.

Dowoon bursts out laughing.

Jae frowns. “A little disrespectful this morning, aren’t we, Dowoonie?”

“Hyung,” Dowoon says, recovering a little from his fit of laughter, leaning in as if to whisper. “Your neck is covered in bruises that are oddly shaped like open mouths.”

“Ah well--it was just some guy--”

“--Jae?” Brian’s voice calls from the bedroom.

Jae winces. _Fuck._ “Yeah?”

“I can’t find my underwear.”

Jae looks at Dowoon. "Uh--"

Dowoon sighs, calls out into the apartment. “Hey, Brian?”

“Holy shit what the fuck--” There’s the sound of stumbling, of furniture upended as Brian stubs his toe on the doorframe, knocking some of Jae’s books onto the floor.

“Put on some pants.” Dowoon pushes past Jae and into the apartment, holding Jae's gaze level. “You two are so fucked.”

 

“Okay, so this is about as weird as things get,” Dowoon says, moments later, when he’s sitting across from a partially clothed (underwear on at least) Brian and a duvet-bundled Jae (an attempt to hide his hickeys).

Jae has made them coffee--mostly because he can’t function without it. The smell of it fills the room. He and Brian are sharing a bag of potato chips--mostly because Brian can’t fully wake up without eating something first.

“Is it?” Brian asks, chewing loud. “I mean. People fuck around all the time.”

“Yeah,” Jae assents, taking a swig from his coffee.

“Yeah but it’s _weird,_ ” Dowoon shakes his head. “I _knew_ I wasn’t hallucinating last night. You two are crazy. Are you together now?”

“HAH,” Jae says. “Number one, none of your business. Number two, none of our exes’ business. Businesses?”

“Business,” Brian corrects. “It’s a sole proprietorship deal these days. And Jae’s right. The contract is confidential, between the two parties involved _only._ ”

“You heard the man,” Jae says firmly, nodding toward Brian.

Aside: their knees touch under the table, Brian feeds Jae a potato chip.

Dowoon studies them, pauses, frowns into his coffee cup. “So _are_ you?”

“We’re friends who fuck,” Jae says, point-blank.

“Nothing more, nothing less,” Brian says.

“Do _they_ know?”

“Why the hell would they know?” Jae sighs.

“I think that if you stomp on someone’s heart like Sungjin did on Jae’s and Wonpil did on mine, you kind of lose the right to know stuff about someone? You kind of forfeit the benefit of being able to get mad about stuff like that,” Brian snaps. “So no, Dowoonie. And you’re not going to tell them.”

Dowoon raises an eyebrow, studies the both of them, takes in the way that Jae’s arm rests easy over Brian’s shoulders, the way that Brian offers Jae his coffee cup to be filled like it’s second nature. “You two ever hear of verbal irony?”

“What about it?” Jae asks.

Dowoon laughs. “I’d tell you, but it’d take the piss out of the whole thing.”

Stage whisper: Jae is constantly surprised by how funny Brian is, how strangely vulnerable despite his body like a battle axe, despite his swagger, despite the fact that he looks like butter won’t melt--he likes that Brian is silly and soft and likes to playfight before they start making out, that he makes weird nicknames for Jae, that he sometimes pretends to bite him before _actually_ biting him. Brian likes how strangely safe he feels in Jae’s arms, how everyone else calls him hyung or hyungie or Jaehyungie, as if being protective and sweet is part of his name itself. He likes the weird way that Jae's glasses slip down the bridge of his nose, the way that he keeps them on even when they fuck because he doesn't want to miss it, because he wants to see Brian's face.

They’re both thinking about it, trying not to, both still in their bubble, convinced they're just fucking around.

The plot is an arrow that has yet to pierce them, cradled in Cupid's bow.

“Friends who fuck, tell whoever. We don’t care,” Brian says, brushing Jae’s hair out of his eyes before pushing Jae’s glasses up his nose.

“Thanks, F-W-BriBri.” Jae says, grinning.

“Anytime, Fubu.” Brian winks.

Now _that,_ Dowoon thinks, is dramatic irony. And these two are idiots.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rising Action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)   
>  [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)   
>  [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)

Almost as if in rebellion against Dowoon’s questioning and his eagerness to have them  _ explain _ or  _ define _ whatever it is they are, Brian and Jae find themselves taking it to a whole other level: they start spending weeks at a time at each others’ apartments, Jae losing SD cards at a time from doing his editing at Brian’s, Brian finding his neckties mixed up with Jae’s laundry from heading straight to Jae’s after his final presentations. 

They do it everywhere, as if baptizing each other’s apartments with their bodies: countertops, tables, sofas, futons, chairs, beds, the floor. Brian’s since gotten more and more furniture--seeing Jae on them, either splayed out and calling his name, or looking up at him with a mischievous glimmer in his eye being his sole (and secret) motivation. This thought occupies his mind as he rides Jae on an impulse-bought armchair that looks too big for his apartment and was too expensive for him to afford without compromising his food allowance but which was the kind of faux-velvet that marked when you touched it and that was an outline he very much wanted to see, to be part of  creating. 

He looks at Jae, the way his hands grip the arm rests, the way that his thighs tremble as they tense against the fabric. He grins.  _ Worth it. Absofuckinglutely worth it.  _

In turn, Jae starts to dress up his place too, buying more sheets for the bed so that they don’t have to do it on the bare mattress while his covers are in the wash (which is well, often), picking them out in accordance with how pretty he thinks Brian will look thrashing against them: navy blue pinstripes, periwinkle with dandelion patterns. 

The way Brian moves when they do it reminds him of the ocean, a body to be reckoned with. He finds himself thinking of other ways, other positions, Brian’s words that first night coming back to haunt him with a vengeance.  _ I used to top.  _ He holds the mental note down with a red pushpin in the corkboard of his mind: maybe when we’re both feeling better. 

Today is the Saturday before finals week, the quiet before the storm, before the hectic running around and exhaustion barrels into them both full-force. They’d taken advantage of the weekend--Jae had come over Friday night (with clothes for Monday morning) and they’d fucked each other into a state of lethargy by Saturday afternoon. They’d tried for a third time that day but Jae’s legs are sore, Brian’s knees hurt from where they’d been flush against the kitchen counter. 

Now, they’re sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, watching something on Netflix. A box of pizza and a plate of mojos sit steaming in front of them. Brian dips the soft tip into his mouth, savoring the way that the pepperoni and cheese mingle with the taste of tomato sauce, the tenderness of the dough. Jae is picking the pepperoni off of it with chopsticks, laying each disc onto a mojo before plopping it into his mouth. 

“Sorry again about forgetting you were lactose intolerant.”

Jae shrugs, grins. “S’fine. I like pepperoni well enough.” 

On screen, something dramatic happens. 

Someone throws things, yells a heavy-handed insult. 

“Christ.” Brian rolls his eyes. 

“Hey,” Jae says, defensive. “It happens.” 

Brian raises an eyebrow. 

“Did you get all emotional and... _ like that _ when you guys broke up?” 

Jae grins, taking one of Brian’s discarded crusts and biting into it. The bread is still warm, tastes good, balancing out the saltiness of the meat and the cheese. “Oh hell yeah. It might not seem like it because you know, I seem perfect--”

“--spare me, milky turds--”

“--eww, what the fuck and actually I vomit most of it so it doesn’t even make it out the other end--”

“--what the fuck, Jae--” 

“--you asked for it. Anyway, yeah. I got very, very,  _ very  _ dramatic. I threw soda in his face. I also called him a lying scumbag and said that I hope whoever the fuck he gets with next ends up giving him gonorrhea.”

“What the hell,” Brian nearly snorts soda through his nose.

Jae shrugs. “How would  _ you  _ feel if the person you were  _ in love with  _ for the past what, like, three years suddenly tells you they don’t feel an emotional connection with you anymore and that they feel like you aren’t trying and that actually, they’d asked one of the people from their part time job who they weren’t even  _ that  _ attracted to out on a date because they were so fucking lonely in your relationship that  _ anyone  _ would be a good alternative at that point? And that they kissed them just to see if they could feel something again? All this with a weird, accusatory tone that somehow it was  _ your _ fault they were lonely? And then he brought Wes Anderson into it, said I was a sucker for tragedies and  _ that’s  _ why I couldn’t seem to accept that what we had was amazing and had to take top priority--like dude,  _ I’m  _ not the one breaking up with me. So who the fuck is the sucker for tragedy here?”

“Mmmm,” Brian says, taking in the information. “I guess I’d be pretty mad too. But it’s normal to be mad right? If you’re mad, it means it hurts, it means you care. It means it mattered to you and that’s important. Even if it’s painful, you didn’t waste all that time.” 

“Ohohohoh--are we still talking about me, Mr. Kang?” Jae turns to look at Brian. “Spill the fucking tea.” 

Brian sighs, his voice trembling when he finally speaks. “I didn’t cry. I’m usually a cry baby--well, Pil and I are usually crybabies, but neither of us shed a tear. It was some stone cold shit right there when we broke up. Like, Elsa and her frigid ass had nothing on us. The White Walkers would’ve run a fever in comparison. It was a weird night. I missed his recital and he didn’t notice. When he got home, he said we should break up. So I said okay. See, the thing is that, I  _ did  _ go to the recital, just kind of lurked in the back and then I left. He just looked so  _ happy  _ without me. He was laughing and people were applauding him and then he played his piece and it was  _ incredible  _ but I just knew that I didn’t belong there. So I slipped out and went home before he had a chance to look for me--not that he did. He came home late. He still had confetti on his suit. He had that after-party glow, you know? And when he looked at me, it was like seeing a light go out. It’s weird that people can fall out of love just like that. You don’t see it happen, it’s like falling through a trapdoor and not knowing it--I mean, dude, seriously, at the beginning, we were crazy in love. You know those annoying couples that can’t keep their hands off each other in Hongdae and who wear couple sweaters and share their heating pads by holding hands in their jacket pockets during the winter? That was me and Pillie. We had a theme song, we were each others’ phone background wallpapers--I’m talking lock screen  _ and  _ desktop. It was the most disgusting, sappy, two-straws-in-a-fucking-milkshake kind of stuff you would have ever seen. And for what? Where’d it all go? In the end, it’s like we were strangers. It was hard but it would’ve been harder if we were happy--which would also have been easier in a way because at least it’d mean we cared about each other. After, I just felt lost. Like what was all that for? If it wasn’t love of some sort, what the hell was it? And you know, if I could fuck it up when there wasn’t even anything  _ wrong  _ per se, what does that say about me?”

“Fuck, Bri.” Jae sighs, unsure what to say, settles for picking up a slice of pizza and holding it up to Brian’s mouth. “Bite.” 

Brian grins, does as he’s told, soon devouring the entire slice. “Thanks.” 

“You cared,” Jae says quietly, licking the pizza oil off of his hands. “It may not have been the same kind of care you entered the relationship with but you must’ve cared if you’re still thinking about it. I like thinking about love as a set of actions. Maybe you didn’t want to go to the recital but you went and that counts. You left because you thought he would’ve been happier without you and that means you care about his happiness. You’re here, telling me about it. So you still care. You learned to care through that relationship and that’s never a waste of time. I don’t think anything is a waste of time, really.”

“I guess,” Brian says, turning his attention back to the screen. “And what about this thing we’re doing?” 

Jae snorts. “Well, we both learned to fuck in ways we weren’t used to so there’s that--” 

Brian grins. “True that.” 

“We both learned that you can be friends with someone and be attracted to them and not have to plunge head-first into a relationship with them.” 

“You mean it’s okay to fuck around,” Brian says pointedly, turning to look at Jae.

Jae grins, as he holds Brian’s gaze. “I mean, having fun is a kind of healing too.” 

Brian smiles at that--and Jae notices, not for the first time, the way that his cheeks dimple, the way that his eyes shine and crinkle up at the corners. He inches ever-so-slightly closer, their shoulders brushing.

Brian leans his head on Jae’s shoulder as on screen, the film ends. “Right. This is nice.” 

“It is,” Jae says softly. “It really is.” 

 

And for a moment, things are in a state of stasis. For a moment, the checks are balanced, everything in equilibrium.

 

But of course, the plot, as it is, always thickens. 

  
  


The envelope is white, heavy, with neat, boxy handwriting across the front. Brian blinks, not quite sure what’s going on as it lands with a distinct  _ thwap _ on his open ledger. He curses, glancing up from his calculator, irritated at his computations being interrupted. It’s finals week and he really, really needs this graded assignment to pull through--that’s the thing about being a star scholar, you didn’t just hope to pass, you had to fucking  _ ace _ shit. Brian’s scowl relaxes into some semblance of shock when he finds himself looking into the face of one very disgruntled Park Sungjin. 

“Yo, PSJ. What the hell is this?” He holds up the envelope. 

“I need you to give it to him.” 

“What?” 

Sungjin points at the envelope, tapping a finger hard against the boxy text. Brian glances down, everything clicking into place as what it says finally registers. Park Jaehyung. 

“You see him, right?”

“What--I mean--” 

“Dowoon said you guys went to his gig. So you see him around. I need you to do me a solid and give this to him.” 

Brian frowns. “Look, I don’t think this whole me-as-a-go-between thing is a good idea.” 

Sungjin sighs. “One last time, Brian. I swear to god. I’ll buy you coffee. I’ll do your homework--”

“--at least tell me what it’s about.” Brian says, sighing as he closes his ledger, inwardly giving up on finishing anything within the next couple of minutes. 

“I want him back,” Sungjin says, frowning, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I can’t fucking believe he didn’t  _ chase _ me. I mean, you know--I know it sounds dumb and immature to want someone to chase me but you’d think a fucking  _ film  _ student would know that every good movie has a chase scene.” 

“Excuse me,  _ what _ ?” Brian feels his fists tense, blood pounding in his cheeks. “Did you just say that you broke up with him so he would chase you?” 

“Well it’s not that simple,” Sungjin says, shrugging. “But I thought he would. Is it so bad to want to feel special? I didn’t think he’d let it go so long without doing something  _ big.  _ At least a serenade or something. I mean, if you love someone, you don’t just let them go--” 

“--so you broke his heart because you wanted attention? Because you wanted him to do something  _ romantic _ for you?” Brian’s vision is swimming. Flashback: Jae’s trembling lower lip, Jae’s gaze lowering from his as he talked about Sungjin seeing someone else, the attempt to sound cheerful running through his voice. “And now this letter is somehow supposed to make that okay?” 

“Well, I wouldn’t put it that way, but--yeah. I’m willing to take him back if he eases up on the film stuff--” 

“--you want him to stop doing his film stuff--” 

“--not stop just...taper it, maybe do less of it--” 

“Sungjin?”

“What?”  


“Think fast.” Brian feels something snap inside him as he lets his restraint go, his clenched fist hitting Sungjin square in the jaw. 

Papers fly, the chairs and tables behind Sungjin topple. Someone yells. 

 

Cue: pandemonium.

 

 

“Jae, go clean up your mess,” Wonpil says, bursting into the Advanced Art Theory classroom where Jae’s putting the finishing touches on his final paper, a soldier heading into battle armed with correction tape and a black ballpoint pen. 

Jae looks up, confused. “Dude, that’s what I’m trying to do. My laptop’s m button is broken so I just type n then ad the other curve--” 

“--that’s not what I mean.”

Jae studies Wonpil’s usually cheerful face: his lips are pressed into a straight line, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Wait, what are you talking about?” 

Wonpil blinks a couple of times before answering, as if debating whether or not he should say anything. “Sungjin and Brian are having it out in the quad.” 

“Sungjin?” Jae asks, his hand hovering over the last n for him to correct. “As in _ my  _ Sungjin? And Brian as in--”

“-- _ my  _ Brian,” Wonpil confirms.

Jae feels a pang of jealousy, pushes it away. “Why are they fighting? I mean why would they--”

Wonpil raises an eyebrow. “--you tell me.” 

“No,” Jae says, the worst case scenario dawning on him. “No no no no no no no no no no--”

“--Jae!” Wonpil says, clapping to get Jae’s attention.

Jae startles. “Woah. What. Okay sorry I--”

“--get out there. Brian when he’s angry--has a really, really, really dirty vocabulary--”

 

 

“You fucking asshole!” Brian grunts as he pushes Sungjin down against the grass of the quad. They’d gotten kicked out of the classroom, had pushed each other halfway down the stairs before Sungjin got a good one in, fist hitting Brian square in the eye before Brian had gained ground again, tackling Sungjin. “You have the fucking  _ gall  _ to ask me to give Jae that insipid letter? You want to have him back just to hurt him again? Are you an idiot--” 

Sungjin pushes back, the whole world turning as they wrestle again, his fist tugging the collar of Brian’s shirt, his tie coming loose. Sungjin’s eyebrows are furrowed as he gets another shot in, grazing Brian’s brow with his knuckles. “Are you fucking crazy? Have you lost your goddamn mind? You don’t even know him--” 

“--know him?” Brian holds Sungjin down by the cuff of his sleeve, rendering his arms immobile. “I know him well enough at least to know that it would kill him to give up film. I know him well enough to know that even if he isn’t the showiest guy, he tries his best when he cares about people and I would never, ever, ever make him give up what he loves just to make me feel good, just to satisfy my goddamn ego--” 

“--oh my god,” Sungjin says, blinking up at Brian as if for a moment forgetting their single course of action had been to beat the living daylights out of each other. “You’re fucking him, aren’t you?” 

“Shut your pie hole,” Brian says, but his words don’t have enough bite, enough sting. The statement caught him off guard, the truth written plain on his face. 

“You’re a fucking snake.” Sungjin shoves Brian off of him, gets to his feet. “I fucking trusted you.”

“HAH. Trusted me. You just didn’t want to go and see him yourself because you couldn't be bothered.”

“Scumbag.”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t know how good you had it.” Brian says, regaining his balance as he stands up, brushing the dirt off of his hands, his arms, his knees. He can taste blood in his mouth. “And the gall to try and make up for it with a letter asking him to give up the thing he loves the most--” 

“--Bri.” Brian looks up to see Jae walking toward them, his dark hair blowing in the wind, oversized shirt fluttering against his lanky frame. His eyes are serious, mouth downturned into a frown. “Bri, that’s enough.” 

Brian blinks. 

Jae meets Sungjin’s eye. “Sorry for the inconvenience caused here--”

“--is that why you didn’t go after me?” Sungjin demands. “Because you were busy doing the nasty with this jerkwad?” 

“No,” Jae says, unconsciously pulling Brian toward him, his grasp on the sleeve of his shirt tightening. “I didn’t go after you because you hurt me so much that even thinking about you made me want to throw up. I didn’t go after you because, I don’t know, Sungjin--you asked someone out when we were still together and then made me feel like it was my fault? And newsflash: if you love someone, you don’t leave. Come on, Brian.” 

Exit, stage right. 

 

A changing of acts.

 

Unbeknownst to them, of course. 

  
  


“So I--I hit him,” Brian says, smiling shyly as he sits on Jae’s countertop, recounting the whole thing. Jae holds the ice pack up to Brian’s newly stitched-up brow. “I mean--he was asking--” 

“--yeah, I heard,” Jae smiles softly, cleaning up the smaller cuts on Brian’s cheek, nose, lower lip. Brian flinches from the sting of the iodine. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” 

“You should’ve seen the other guy," Brian jokes.  

Jae shakes his head, grinning.  


Brian watches Jae fondly, taking in the way his eyebrows furrow in concentration as he focuses on getting all of the small wounds, the way that he is biting down on his lower lip to keep himself from smiling too wide. “It was worth it, though. I mean. I’m sorry about it because I know it must’ve been really annoying for you and I don’t like hitting people--but it was worth it because at least now he knows that he shouldn’t ever ask anyone to give up what they love.” 

Jae meets his eye. “Or you know, you could’ve written him a letter. Or just talked to him like a civilized human being.” 

“I know,” Brian agrees. “I’ll text him in a few days, maybe. I still mean it though. I’ll never forgive him for treating you like that.” 

Jae blinks once, twice, before putting the iodine and q-tip down, putting his hands gently on Brian’s shoulders before kissing him softly, eyes shut tight. Brian smiles even if it stings a little.

When they pull away, it’s Jae who speaks up first. “Thank you, but--I forgive him.” 

Brian raises an eyebrow, his heart sinking. “You thinking of going back--” 

“--if he didn’t break up with me I wouldn’t have met you.”

“Oh--”

“--Bri?” 

“Hmmm?” 

“How about we do it tonight--but like, the way we’re used to doing it? I mean, like, you top--” 

Brian hesitates, thinks about it for a moment. “--but--” 

“--I don’t want it to be about forgetting them anymore,” Jae says, looking into Brian’s eyes. “I want it to be about remembering this, whatever this is, for whatever it’s worth--” 

Brian tugs Jae closer by his oversized shirt, kissing his cheeks, the space between his brows, his lips. “Okay, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference - https://youtu.be/rnvQbpofJTo?t=2m36s


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Climax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll proofread tomorrow. Sorry if there are any typos. <3 Enjoy!
> 
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)   
>  [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)   
>  [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)

The scene is laid: the bed by the window, fitted in sheets the color of sky at dusk. Moonlight pouring in through the window. 

Already there, here, our two protagonists, breathless against each other--skin against skin, about to fuck for the nth time, about to fuck for the first time. 

For once, they fuck slow. 

Jae lets Brian push him onto the bed, lets Brian peel off his shirt softly, taking his time with the buttons as his lips graze the hollow of Jae’s neck, the curve of his shoulder, mouth chasing the fabric down Jae’s chest, his ribs, before abandoning it for the rest of his skin--the expanse of milky white that he lets his hands travel down as if for the first time. Jae is careful with Brian’s wounds, pulling his shirt over his head ever-so-slowly, avoiding the stitched brow, the bruised eye, instead kissing him tender as if he were the cloth itself: lips to cheek, to soft mouth before moving south, exploring Brian’s nipples with his tongue, feeling the harden as Brian lowers himself onto Jae like the night onto the city, this time laying his weight between Jae’s legs. 

Brian smiles as he hears Jae’s breath hitch when he presses his palm to Jae’s cock through his pants. He bites on the swell of Jae’s bottom lip, letting Jae slip a graceful hand under the band of his boxers, feeling himself rise to the occasion against the warmth of Jae’s hand. They moan soft, still so new with this kind of want, clumsy in the absence of the need to forget, the shyness of wanting instead to savor, to remember.

They do everything that they can, everything that their bodies will allow: now, here, Brian moves low, pulling Jae’s pants off with broad hands, lowering his lips to kiss the hollows of his hips, to skim the soft flesh of his slim thighs, before bowing down to blow Jae with all he’s got, with the tender conviction of a revolutionary or soldier, letting his lips hide the edges of his teeth, making sure Jae is gripping the sheets from the friction, the smoothness of the glide. He watches Jae thrash like a storm: throat bared, lips parted in passion, hips thrusting into him before he lets Jae’s cock hit the back of his throat. 

The sound of it--a desperate, loving, whinnying cry but bottled up, not-quite-choking, not-quite-release--catches the crux of Jae’s desire and he mewls, makes sounds he hadn’t known he was capable of. His voice cracks, curls, crashes like tide against Brian’s name.

“Bri--oh my fucking god--Brian--Brian, please--” 

Brian responds by raising his eyes to meet Jae’s gaze, fox-like and sly, but also bright with affection. He licks, lets his tongue graze base, shaft, cusp, slit. 

Jae watches Brian’s body--the curve and cut of his shoulders, his broad chest, the line from his nape down his back, the swell of flesh on his hips, the thick curve of his thighs, the way the muscles on his legs tense as he takes Jae in deeper, closer. Jae feels a strange kind of envy, wants Brian to thrash inside him too, wants to hear his name pulled from Brian’s throat too.

“Bri,” Jae tugs on Brian’s hair gently. “How about we do both ways?” 

Brian raises an eyebrow, is intrigued enough to try. “What do you have in mind?” 

Jae blushes, grinning shy. “Well. You know.” 

Picture threading the needle twice: white thread through the hard eye of the needle. Two bodies lain inverse: axis to axis--the figurative number used and abused, sixty-nine. Jae lies with his back flush against the mattress, lets his palms skim Brian’s back, his thighs, gives his ass a squeeze before he strokes Brian’s cock hard, letting it dip softly into his mouth. Brian’s breath hitches above him. Jae smiles, licking, now, teasing, opening wide but not yet taking Brian in whole. 

Brian doesn’t waste time, takes Jae in deep. Jae’s hips buck, having no choice now but to return Brian’s eagerness. With his hands on Brian’s hips, thumbs finding the soft hollows, he pauses licking to whisper a soft command. 

“Fuck into my mouth.” 

The order is so soft it’s almost a plea, almost a request. Brian does as he’s told, thrusts into Jae’s mouth, moaning from the friction and warmth, the pliant way that Jae takes him in, the way Jae’s throat clenches around his cock. Brian pulls off of Jae long enough to lick the fingers on his right hand, to find Jae’s entrance, letting his tongue linger long there, licking at the pucker as it pulses against his ministrations.    


“Oh fuck, Jae--” Brian gasps, both from pleasure and the sight of Jae’s hole blooming like that, the feel of it opening longer and longer, until Brian is able to slip a finger in. “--fuck. You’re gorgeous. Oh my god. Oh fuck, you feel so good--” 

Jae doesn’t respond, only bucks his hips, his cock moving against Brian’s free hand, moving Brian’s preoccupied fingers deeper into him. 

“Oh god, you’re so eager,” Brian says, voice deep now, raspy. He sucks soft bruises onto Jae’s thighs, stroking him close to climax and then letting go. The tip of his finger grazes Jae’s prostate and he holds it there for a moment, just wanting to see what happens, how Jae takes it.

Jae’s mouth goes slack under him as Jae lets out loudest, longest, hoarsest moan either of them have ever heard. 

Brian pulls his fingers out, raises his hips, glancing down between them. “You okay?”

“Close call. Christ, you’re crazy.” Jae is breathless but laughing softly. “Just--just please fuck me, Bri. I want to cum with you inside me, alright?”

Brian grins. “Alright.” 

They move again, repositioning themselves, reconfiguring their bodies as if to make love is to solve a puzzle. Brian finds his place between Jae’s legs, propping Jae up with a pillow. His hands graze Jae’s hips, linger on his knees. Legs for days. They kiss soft, slow. 

“Ready?” Brian asks.

Jae nods, pushing his glasses up his nose, wanting to see this clearly. Moonlight, beautiful boy, both of them turned silver, illuminated. “Ready.”

Brian pushes in slowly. Jae feels himself keen, open to let Brian in. They pause like the moment in a film before roses fall onto the ground, petals scattering. Brian soothes Jae with his palms. Jae moves slow, letting Brian fill him completely. When Brian speaks, his voice is a whisper. “Take it slow. I don’t want this to hurt.”

Jae smiles, meets Brian’s eye. “It doesn’t hurt.” 

“Oh, Jae--” Brian starts to thrust--gentle but sure. He breathes out slow but loud through parted lips, watching Jae curl and uncurl below him. His hands find Jae’s nipples, pinching softly. Jae bucks his hips up to meet Brian as Brian begins to go faster, harder into him. “--oh fuck fuck fuck--” 

Jae cries Brian’s name out like it’s a prayer. Brian answers by stroking his hard, neglected cock, letting pleasure rain down on Jae both ways: the needle again, threaded twice, Brian fucking into Jae while pumping his cock close and slow. And then the thread curls a third time as Brian finds Jae’s prostate, dragging the tip of himself against it, vision going blurry from pleasure, the only thing in focus Jae’s gaze as he looks at Brian with what looks like love. 

“Oh my god, Bri--” Jae cums first, white and hot, thick and pulsing over Brian’s hand, onto his belly. 

“--Jae--” Brian slams into him fast, hard, hands holding onto Jae’s hips for dear life. 

“Inside,” Jae begs. “Please."

“Oh my fucking god--” 

“--fill me up, Bri--” 

Brian watches Jae watching him, feels his heart pounding in his chest as he chases his orgasm.

“Oh Jae--oh fuck--I’m almost there--” 

With a final thrust, Brian cums inside Jae, pulling out in time to leave his cream trailing out of Jae’s hole, onto the bed, his thighs. “--oh my god.” 

Brian collapses on top of Jae, both of them breathless, sated, exhausted, satisfied. Jae puts a hand to Brian’s nape, pulls him in for a kiss. Brian sighs into it, both of them still trembling: neither of them sure where one’s goosebumps end and the other’s begins.

  
  


Every true kiss is a key: the antidote to a curse or the note in a vial asking to be drunk. A kiss is either the spell or its undoing or, in rare cases such as these, both. 

  
  


The next morning is different but the same. Brighter, somehow, like someone had adjusted the world’s color palette, tweaked the white balance to turn up the tungsten. Jae’s fridge is empty so Brian gets them breakfast: orders in pancakes and bacon, gets a pot of coffee going before Jae is awake. 

Jae wakes up smiling, curls himself around a pillow, butterflies doing things in his stomach as he hears Brian out in the kitchen singing. He savors the moment for a bit before he gets up, puts on Brian’s discarded shirt from the night before. It’s loose in the shoulders, but settles just right on his hips. His body aches but in a good way--like when you’ve just spent the day swimming in the sea. He looks down at the blue, mussed sheets.  _ Brian is the ocean.  _

Brian looks up from the kitchen table when he hears Jae get up. He grins as Jae stumbles into the kitchen, still sleepy. He thinks his shirt has never looked better than it does now: Jae’s lanky frame swathed in the loose fabric.

“Good morning, loser,” Brian says, setting a plate of pancakes onto the table, discarding the take-out packaging. “You literally only had coffee in your refrigerator.” 

“And half a pitcher of water,” Jae retorts, grinning as he takes his seat. “Don’t forget about that.” 

Brian rolls his eyes but smiles, sitting across from him as he sets the coffee pot down, using a potholder to keep the hot surface from scalding the table. “You got finals today?” 

Jae nods. “Yeah, after lunch. You?” 

“I have to submit the Accounting stuff I was working on before yesterday’s whole thing--” 

“--speaking of the whole thing,” Jae says, cutting across his pancakes with his fork, meeting Brian’s eye. “How was last night for you?” 

Brian grins, taking a sip from his cup of coffee. “So I wasn’t vocal enough?” 

Jae laughs. “Well. You know what I mean. I mean, I just don’t want to force anything that feels weird or not-right or whatever--”

Brian’s eyes grow wide. “--did  anything feel weird or not-right for you?”

“Not even a little.” Jae chews on his food contemplative. “Yeah. Actually, it felt so good I’m not sure how I’m going to get through my final. When they grill me in Cinematography, I’ll just write BRIAN KANG BRIAN KANG BRIAN KANG everywhere.”

Brian laughs. His eyes crinkle. “Oh come on.” 

Jae shrugs. “I’m just telling the truth.” 

“We’ve come a long way from  _ fragile and kinda horny and emotionally unavailable _ ,” Brian jokes. 

“I like you,” Jae blurts out, his cheeks turning red. “I mean. You know. Not in a FuBu way.”

Brian almost snorts his coffee through his nose. “Okay so we’re doing this right now--”

“--sorry,” Jae says. “I thought it’d be better to get it out of the way. Just say it. Or else it’ll hound me for the rest of the day and I’ll be like  _ I’m sure he gets it--wait, yo, but what if he doesn’t get it and then he meets someone and-- _ ”

“--I doubt I could meet anyone who would measure up to your level of insanity--” 

“--do you feel the same?”

Brian grins, watching Jae blink at him, watching his lower lip tremble. “Yes but on crack.” 

“What?” 

“I couldn’t find a more hyped-up way of saying yes, I feel the same. I’m kind of crazy about you.” Brian’s face heats up but he doesn’t mind because Jae’s blushing too. 

It’s Jae who breaks the silence. “You know Dowoonie is never going to let us live this down, right?” 

  
  


“I fucking knew it,” Dowoon says, clapping Jae’s back a little too loud, as they walk toward the quad a couple of days later. “You two little shits--”

“--yo, we’re both older than you--”

“You two little shits,” Dowoon reiterates, this time emphasizing the last word. “Wouldn’t have known love if it bit you in the ass. Happy for you though. You’ve both been through a lot. You deserve to be happy.” 

Jae grins as they walk down the hall. They’d just gotten out of their Screenwriting 3 final--just 35% of the final grade, most of it banking on their projects, but it was stressful nonetheless. “Thanks, Dowoonie.” 

“Have you talked to Sungjin and Pillie though? I heard about the whole Brian-in-the-red-corner thing.” 

“Ah. Right.” Jae kicks a pebble into the gutter. “What’s there to talk about? It’s none of their beeswax.” 

Dowoon shrugs. “Maybe I’m an idealist. I like the idea of closure. You and PSJ were together for a long time. I was there during the glory days--I remember it pretty well. He isn’t a bad guy, you know. He’s just a bit misdirected. It’s like his strengths also pander to his weaknesses. He’s so sure about what he wants, sometimes he doesn’t take time to consider how he’s going to get it.” 

Jae nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I know that. Do you think Brian and Wonpil have closure?”

Dowoon smiles sadly. “I’m not sure. But I know that Pil feels really bad about that whole situation.” 

“Brian too,” Jae says. “He gets sad about it." 

“Look,” Dowoon says, serious now. “I’m not saying closure is needed but that it might help. And it never hurt to start a relationship fresh, does it?” 

  
  


Plot twist: the wheels are already in motion, a step ahead.

  
  


Brian runs into him at the bookstore after his last final. He’s there to pick up a new collated poetry volume by Jeffrey McDaniel as a way to celebrate having survived the term, Wonpil’s there to pick up a biography about Diana Ross. There’s a long line because there’s a storewide sale on graphic novels. 

They fall in line next to each other. Wonpil clutches his book to his chest, halfway between shy and defensive, holding it close like a rune or a shield. Brian smiles, his anger from the past few months dissipating. He breaks the silence.

“Hey, Pil.” 

Wonpil blinks. “Hey, Bri.” 

“How’ve you been?" 

“Well,” Wonpil says. “You know. Same old, same old. Making music, going to recitals, that sort of thing.” 

“Cool,” Brian says, nodding. 

“You?”

“I’ve been good too. Things are really coming along with my internship and stuff. Oh and also, I’m dating Jae so there’s that.” 

Wonpil smiles. “Yeah, I figured. I was really scared you were going to say something that you’d regret when the whole Sungjin thing broke out.” 

Brian laughs. “I’m not a barbarian.” 

“I know, but you get very passionate about people you care about.” 

A beat. A flashback: their last fight, the silence that sliced through their relationship like the blade of a knife digging into the heart of an onion. 

“This might be a weird thing to say but I cared about you, you know,” Brian says. “I mean. I know in the end it was kind of cold and we were distant and all that. But I really cared about you.” 

Wonpil smiles. “I know that. I’m sorry that I didn’t treat you the best. I should’ve been more present. I shouldn’t have taken things too hard especially when you critiqued my stuff. I know you were just trying to help but it just dug at me and dug at me.” 

“I went to your recital,” Brian says, his voice just a half-whisper now. 

Wonpil tilts his head in wonder. “What?”

“Yeah,” Brian says, smiling a little now. “I went to your recital. And I never got to tell you because--well, you know. Of what happened after. But you played really well, Pillie. You did so good. I was so proud of you.” 

Wonpil’s eyes are glassy. He ducks his head, tries not to let it show, but Brian can tell--he’s not doing so well himself, his throat kind of choking up.

Wonpil clears his throat. “Why didn’t you stay? I didn’t even see you there.” 

Brian laughs. It’s a soft sound. “You looked so happy with your friends, people who are eventually going to be your colleagues. And when I saw you up there on that stage like that, glowing and joyful, I realized that you didn’t look like that around me anymore. I knew that I didn’t belong in your world anymore. I just didn’t fit. It’s like life sanded us down and we became different parts of a different puzzle. And if it’s a question of you being happy or me feeding my ego by insisting I belonged somewhere I didn’t, well. You know the answer.”

“You’ve been reading too much poetry,” Wonpil jokes, wiping at the tears slipping down his cheeks. 

Brian grins, realizing his own face is wet too. He sniffles, wiping at his nose with his sleeve. “God. I thought you were supposed to cry  _ during  _ the break up.” 

Wonpil laughs at that. “It’s like when you play a note on sustain. Sometimes you don’t get the full meaning until the end.” 

“Thanks for everything, Pil,” Brian says as they inch toward the counter. “I mean that. It was a good run while it lasted. And I really hope that you’re happy.” 

Wonpil smiles. “Thank you too, Bri. As far as first boyfriends go, you were the dream, really. And goodluck with the Jae thing. He’s a nice guy. I hope you two make each other happy for a long time.” 

Brian grins at the thought of Jae, is suddenly eager to head home where he knows Jae’ll be waiting in his hallway, probably reading a book. “I think we will.”

They get their things rung up at the counter, walk to the entrance together and exchange a brief, warm hug before going their separate ways. On the train back to his place, Brian smiles, his heart feeling warm, free, eager to make it home. 

End scene.

We move onto the next Act.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! So. I really didn't want to write one of those FWB fics where they complicate things via a giant misunderstanding also because it doesn't seem like the kind of thing Jae and Brian would do. xD So, yeah. I hope the smooth sailing isn't too big a surprise or anything and that you guys enjoyed this chapter. :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Denouement, an end, a beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)   
>  [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)   
>  [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)

Denouement: the final part of a play, movie, or narrative in which the strands of the plot are drawn together and matters are explained or resolved.

Or, well. In their case: they get together and fall into the goofiest romance ever.

Enter domestic life, a settling.

It’s a slow but sure thing, something that falls into place like the clasp on a necklace snapping into place. It just fits. _They_ fit. They go at their own time, their own odd pace--quick and slow, sudden but also a long time coming: it happens in little increments, the semester moving like tide lazily licking at the shore. It isn't perfect: sometimes they quarrel, sometimes their tempers are too short to spare an argument between them, sometimes they pass Sungjin in the hall and are met with an icy silence or snide remark, sometimes they argue about little things like who takes out the garbage and who forgets to declog the shower drain.

But mostly it's worth it for the other little things.

For one thing, they start calling each other _baby._

A catalogue of events:

Brian goes on his paid on-the-job program in Gangnam and empties out a drawer for Jae at his apartment so that they don’t have to rush in the morning. Jae fills it with snacks. Jae takes on an internship under one of the school’s prestigious alumni and moves all of his lenses and editing equipment into Brian’s apartment so that if he has to stay up late cutting a reel, he doesn’t have to go home to get his stuff. Brian gets the first installment of his stipend and helps Jae bring over the contents of his fridge: a goldmine of dips, sauces, and deli meat that’s still good. Jae wraps the movie that he’s apprenticing on and he takes home a bottle of champagne, stops by his place to grab his wine glasses which find their home on Brian’s dishrack.

By finals week, Dowoon is cursing at Jae as they haul Jae’s guitars and amplifiers onto a bus, Jae’s backpack filled up with his clothes. They jostle people as they struggle to pull it up the aisle--and struggle to push it down again at their stop. Brian meets them there and helps them haul it up to his unit. Dowoon says that if they break up, they better hire movers. They insist that they aren’t moving in or anything. Dowoon rolls his eyes and tells them to feed him. They compensate Dowoon with lunch at a nearby ramen place where he scarfs everything down, drops his chopsticks as he’s about to pick up the last of his dimsum and sees Brian and Jae holding hands under the table. He hits his head on the table on the way up and asks them to please, please, please stop being so cute because it’s giving him a migraine.

 

 

The first day of their last semester as college kids finds them here: Brian is at the counter making coffee--black for himself, extra super mild and sweet (with strawberry syrup mixed in, which makes him a little sick but he’s learned to respect Jae’s odd preferences) for Jae. Jae is sitting bleary-eyed at the kitchen table, hair a blonde poof (newly dyed for the last hurrah) as he arranges his and Brian’s cereal bowls, mugs.

“You decide to take the job, BriBri?” Jae asks, his voice soft, hoarse with sleep.

Brian nods, walking over with the coffee before taking a seat. “Yeah. I figure, it’s close enough and not a bad place to start. And if something else better comes up after, then good. Nothing to lose.”

Jae nods, smiling a little to himself. “Okay. Yeah, that sounds good.”

“What’re your plans for today, baby?” Brian pours cereal into their mugs (Honey Stars--their favorite; Jae’s taken to calling Brian his Honey Star in bed), adding milk to his and leaving Jae’s dry.

“I gotta submit my final portfolio. And then the mastercut of my thesis. Defense is in two weeks but I’m not too anxious about it.”

“When are you going to let me watch it?”

Jae turns red. He waves a hand dismissively at Brian. “When it wins an oscar.”

Brian reaches into the box for the plastic figuring prize and tosses it at Jae. Jae catches it just short of his cereal bowl. “Come on. No fair. I totally let you read my thesis.”

“Well that’s because there’s nothing to be embarrassed about with something detailing the benefits of establishing a sole proprietorship in small to medium enterprises within the entertainment industry. It’s not the same thing.”

Brian rolls his eyes. “I’ll still love you even if it’s a cheesy rom com.”

Jae looks at him, deadpan. “It’s horror. Possession, blood, gore, the works.”

“Riiiiiight,” Brian says, grinning slyly and taking a sip from his coffee. “I’m sure that’s why I overheard you editing the other day and someone was going _I would totally swipe right if I saw you on Tinder._ ”

“HEY!” Jae can’t help but laugh in disbelief. “Eavesdropper!”

“You should’ve worn headphones!”

“I thought you were sleeping!”

“It’s hard to sleep when you’re not in the bed with me.”

“Oh don’t do _that._ ” Jae tilts his bowl, stuffing cereal into his mouth. He chews, the sound of the crunch filling the entire room.

Brian purses his lips, his cheeks puffing out as he huffs in faux-disgruntlement.

“Ughhhhhh.” Jae feels himself reel from the cuteness. “Stop it, that’s not fair.”

“Pleaaaaaase.” Brian reaches over to tug at Jae’s sleeve. “Please let me watch your movie.”

“Maybe after defense.” Jae raises an eyebrow. “But you have to promise not to cry.”

“HAH,” Brian spoons cereal into his mouth, swallows. “I’m not going to _cry._ Haven’t you heard? I’m made of fucking steel.”

  


Brian bawls into Jae’s favorite Ramones shirt which is soaked almost all the way through. They watch it the night before graduation, sprawled on the living room floor, a bowl of popcorn and two beers between them.

Brian thinks the movie is perfect--maybe it’s him being narcissistic, maybe it’s him being absolutely, incredibly, undeniably smitten, relieved that they found each other when they did, but he thinks it _should_ win an oscar. It’s funny, offbeat in a cinematic voice all Jae’s own. The protagonist is hilarious: sardonic, self-deprecating and egotistic in turns, but undercut with a kind of empathic quality quality to him. The love interest is a business major with bad boy looks and the personality of a kitten. When he’d first spoken, Brian had said _I don’t sound like that!_ in the exact intonation as the character. He thought he’d had it figured out, but then there had been all of those twists, the small interjections of the protagonist’s thoughts and feelings as the frame froze behind him during the important scenes.

Their first night together.

_Protagonist: It just feels so good not to be alone._

The first time they hang out without doing anything, really.

_Protagonist: I’m glad that I’m not alone, with him._

The first time they realize they’re in love.

_Protagonist: The chances of people falling in love are one in a million--more so if it’s after you’ve already fallen in love before, if you’ve already given things up, paid the toll, made the bargains. You think that’s it and that everything after that is just anaesthetic, just a painkiller. And then you blink and suddenly, there he is: the most beautiful person that you’ve ever met. Funny and smart and stupid in the best way, looking at you in a way that makes you wonder who the fuck you saved in a past life to be here._

Jae doesn’t cry, but only because he’d already sobbed through the entirety of storyboarding and producing and editing (another reason why he only got to it when he thought Brian was asleep). He wipes Brian’s tears away with the hem of his shirt.

Brian clings onto him for dear life, hands gripping Jae’s shirt, cheek pressed close against his chest.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Brian takes a deep breath, takes a swig of beer before he answers. “That better fucking win at Sundance or something.”

Jae chuckles. “You thought I was kidding about the Oscars?”

Brian smiles. “It was beautiful.”

“The one thing I wish I could change is the intro sequence. I wish I had enough money to get rights to use that old Fall Out Boy song--”

“--which one?”

“The one about...like...all the songs we love the most never stick initially? Something like that? Don’t quote me.”

“Ah. Yeah.” Brian sings a line. Jae closes his eyes--he loves when Brian sings, thinks Brian doesn’t sing enough. “This is side one, flip me over, I know I’m not your favorite record--”

“--you are though. My favorite.”

Brian’s cheeks heat up. He sighs, leaning against Jae as he thinks about the year past, the years to come.

“Right back atcha, BF.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading this fic. <3 I know I promised someone another bttm!Bri scene but it just didn't seem to fit with the tone of the plot so I decided against it--but I'll definitely be posting more content like that in other fics in the future so don't worry about it. Also, as tempted as I was to fully resolve the Sungjin arch, I figured it might be too neat--like that just doesn't happen in real life, not everything turns out all nice and easy-peezy. So yeah. :) I hope that didn't rub you guys the wrong way or anything. You know I love all of them in equal measure. <33 Here's to the next fic!


End file.
